The Prophecies
by Silver and Black
Summary: In an alternate universe, ancient prophecies are fufilled, magic permeates all, and Elves live in gleaming cities.


Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue! This is set in an alternate universe but uses two canonical events as a jumping off point. Johnny has undergone quite a transformation, both physically and personality-wise. He's a little darker, little more intense, has a little more of an edge. In fact, there's something a tad bit dangerous, perhaps, even sinister about him. In this alternate universe, Johnny's not only an ex-Marine but he's also the battle-hardened veteran of many a war and campaign. Enjoy!

The Prophecies

By: Silver and Black

Nurse Elaine walked into the hospital room of Johnny Smith, little knowing that her life was going to change forever. Six years ago, he'd been in a car accident that had left him badly injured and should have killed him. At first they'd assumed it was just pure dumb luck, but when the nurses had seen that he hadn't aged a day in six years, they realized that he was immortal. In the bed lay Johnny, a pathetic-looking figure. His golden blonde hair needed a trim and his narrow face could use a good shave. His muscular, powerfully built body was thin almost wasted. The high cheekbones, arched eyebrows, and pointed ears proclaimed him to be an Elf. Elaine had brought with her a metal bowl full of water and a sponge. "Time for your bath, Mr. Smith," she said as she came to stand over his bed. A strong, blue-tattooed hand reached up and grabbed her by the wrist. The bowl dropped from her hands then clattered to the floor. He sat bolt upright, his eyes flying open. Bright white light shone forth from them. Johnny blinked several times and the glow winked out revealing vibrant, sparkling amethyst eyes. "Maggie," cried out a voice rusty from six years of disuse.

"How do you know my daughter's name," she asked, obviously astonished.

"Maggie, hold on! It will be alright," he called out to the girl in his vision. He cleared his throat before continuing. "Nurse, call 9-1-1. There's a fire at your house and your little girl is trapped inside." Elaine stood frozen to the spot, staring at him in disbelief. "Call 9-1-1 now! What are you waiting for? Go, go, go," he barked like a drill sergeant giving orders. His sharp tone sparked her into action. She ran from his room to the phone out in the hall. Johnny stared up at the ceiling while waiting for the nurse to return. The patient in the other bed hadn't gotten a single card or flower in the entire time he'd been there. He enviously eyed the Elf's countless cards, flowers, and balloons. Johnny turned his smoldering gaze on the other man. He quickly got the message and immediately turned away from him. Elaine ran back into the room to thank him for saving her daughter. He pushed back the sheets and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "Lay back down, Mr. Smith," she said as she tried to push him back into the bed. He wrenched himself free from her grip. Johnny balled his enormous hands into fists, raised them up in front of his face, looked into her eyes, then used his power of telekinesis to slam her into the wall. "Sorry about that," he said, stepping over her still form. Then he walked into the hallway, moving with a serious limp.

Bruce Lewis walked down the corridor, whistling, minding his own business when he collided with a cruelly handsome man. "I know you don't know me but I need you to do something for me. Help me get out of here," the Elf whispered conspiratorially.

"You're right, I don't know you," Bruce said, pushing the mysterious man back from him.

"You have to help me! I've knocked out a nurse and when she wakes up she will call security. Please," Johnny's tone turned pleading.

"Alright, I will help you."  
"Thank you. I won't ask you for any other favors. Now, let's go!" The Elf limped to Bruce's side and grabbed a hold of his arm. When it became obvious that the wounded man was slowing their progress, he picked him and carried him in his arms. He was amazed by how little he weighed. Johnny was little more than skin and bones. As he made his way down the stairs, he looked at the man in his arms. Uncut golden blonde hair, dazzling purple eyes, Roman nose, hard, cruel mouth. Designs in woad the likes of which Bruce had never seen before. Hoops styled as snakes with malevolent red eyes gleamed from lobe to pointed tip, another in his lower lip, eyebrow, and nose. "I'm so cold," Johnny said, shivering and rubbing his bony arms. Bruce stopped at the foot of the stairs, removed his jacket, then wrapped the freezing Elf in it. He opened the door, walked onto the street. Waiting for him outside was his blue Cruiser. Into the back seat went the mysterious man. The entire drive to Johnny's house was spent in silence.

Dana Bright stood on the front porch, watching as Bruce carried Johnny in his arms. He set him down carefully on unsteady feet. The jacket slid from his bony shoulders to lie on the ground. His hospital gown had transformed into a black sweater and slacks that hung poorly from his skeletal body. Dana was amazed at how much weight her boyfriend had lost.

"Didn't they feed you in the hospital," she asked.

"Yes, they tried, but I refused. I was fasting." Bruce's eyebrows shot up in confusion.  
"Fasting?"  
"From time to time as a form of penance or purification, we enter into a period of fasting. Normally, it lasts only a few weeks. Johnny here is an unusual case in that he has been in a period of fasting for six years," Dana explained as she tucked a flaming red tress behind a pointed ear.

"Why would he have fasted? Did he have anything to atone for?"

"Oh, yes, I have a lot to atone for. I did some terrible things. I was at one point a suspect in the Whitechapel murders but evidence later turned up that exonerated me," Johnny said, answering for Dana.

"How old are you," Bruce asked as helped the reporter walk the man into his house. Mentally crunching the numbers, he quickly came up with the correct answer.

"You're one hundred and fourteen years old!"  
"In fact, I'm much, much older than that. If you tried to figure out how old I _really _am, Bruce, you'd give yourself a splitting headache," Johnny said with just a touch of sarcasm. They helped him walk to his dining room then slowly lowered him into a chair. "Let me get you some lunch, big guy," Dana said, giving her boyfriend a playful smile before gracefully striding off to the kitchen. For the first time, Bruce took a good look at the Elf sitting across from him. When she'd called him "big guy", she wasn't kidding. Johnny stood an impressive 6'9", dwarfing him. His shoulders were massively wide and he was built like a Sherman tank. Right now he looked like one of those emaciated prisoners in the black and white photos of Auschwitz from World War II, but Bruce could well imagine that at full strength he'd be pretty powerfully muscled. "How did you meet Dana?"

"Don't laugh. Promise me you won't laugh."  
"I promise I won't laugh. Go on."  
"She's a Divinity, a goddess. I am her creation. She named me Muna'al. Fitting, since I am the physical manifestation of Death."  
"Earlier you knew my name, even though we've never met before. How?"

"I know every thing about you, Bruce. I know when you were born and I know when you shall die. When you die, I shall come for you," Johnny said in an ominous, slightly menacing tone. Dana returned with a sandwich and a tall glass of milk. "Peanut butter and jelly, your favorite," she said, placing the plate in front of him. She sat down in the chair across from Bruce. They talked while Johnny devoured the sandwich and gulped down the milk. He sent out a tendril to gently probe the human's mind. Surprisingly, no attempts were made to push him out. _Bruce!_

"Johnny?"  
_I'm inside your mind. _

_Cool, man, cool! _

_I have created a telepathic link between us just as I created one between Dana, Sarah, and I. _ Before gently extracting the tendril, Johnny decided to take a quick tour of Bruce's mind. Flashes of memories rushed at him, threatening to overwhelm him. At the end of the tunnel burned a small flame. Darkness tried to smother it yet it continued to burn. He sent forth a bright light that burned away the darkness. The flame roared higher. Slowly he drew out the tendril. Bruce rubbed his forehead like he could feel a mild headache coming on.

"What did you do to me, man?"

"I awakened your mental abilities. They have been dormant too long. We have need of them," Johnny said rather cryptically.  
"Who are "we"?"  
"Dana, Sarah, Walt, and I."  
"Why do you need me?"  
"Druzman has returned just as prophecy said."

"We think he might be living in this town," Dana jumped in.

"In fact, we believe that he could be masquerading as Greg Stillson, Congressional candidate." Bruce watched in fascination as the hand holding the slowly refilling glass began to change color. The hand touching the plate on which a new sandwich materialized also began to change color. Dana smiled while Johnny sloughed off the glamour he'd been using when he came down to Earth after the Schism splintered the One Elven Race into three Races. Blonde hair turned white. Pale skin became a startling dark amethyst. High Elf transformed into Dark. Bruce gasped. His new friend was a drow!

"Who is Druzman and what is this "prophecy" about?"

"It's a very long story. Maybe another time," Johnny said dismissively, taking a bite of the newly materialized sandwich.

"He's right. Maybe another time we'll tell you. For the time being, let's let him finish his lunch. Let me give you a tour."

In the front parlor, Bruce and Dana stood before the empty fireplace, looking at the photos on the mantel. He picked up one of the photos at random and showed it to her. It showed two smiling women standing on either side of a beaming man dressed in military blues.

"Who's in this one?"

"Sarah and I. The dashing man in the dress uniform is Johnny."

"He was in the military?"  
"Yes. The Marines."  
Bruce put the picture back on the mantel then picked up another photo. This one showed Johnny still in his dress uniform but this time a man stood with him. The man wore a police uniform, a patch on his sleeve proclaiming him to be the sheriff of Penobscot County. His brown hair was neatly barbered. Arcane symbols of power had been etched on his face by ritual scarification. His eyes were closed, giving the illusion that he was asleep.

"That's Sarah's husband, Walt Bannerman," Dana said, pointing to the man in the police uniform.

"Why are his eyes closed?"  
"He was born blind. Instead of the milky orbs usually seen in those born blind, his eyes have no iris, white, or pupil. They are glossy black. Unfortunately, they seem rather photosensitive so he must keep them closed." Bruce returned the photo to its place beside the other. While they were talking, Johnny shimmered into existence next to Dana.

"I'll show him around the rest of the house. I'll give you a call and maybe we'll go to dinner. See you later," he said, giving her a light kiss on her lip. Dana gave him a chaste kiss on the tip of a pointed ear before turning and walking away. Bruce's gaze lit on a photo of a woman standing outside a courthouse. She was a pretty young woman, blonde hair, blue eyes, and fair skin. Johnny didn't have to tell him what she was, he already knew. An Elf. She wore a black pants suit and a blue blouse that was the same gorgeous sapphire as her eyes and the duets of earrings in her pointed ears. Like Johnny, she was tattooed with intricate designs in woad.

"Whoa, man! She's quite a looker! Who is she?"  
"Alexandra Cabot. She's the Assistant District Attorney for the city of New York. I've seen her at work. The woman's a real tiger. She's got a mean cross and is the master of the killer closing."

"Cross? Closing?"  
"Cross examination, closing arguments."

"Can I meet her?"

"Yes, next time I go to New York, I'll take you along. I'll also make sure she's the first person you meet."

"Sweet!" Johnny smiled at how much Bruce sounded like Jack when he said that.

"I'm warning you now. Don't mess with Alex. She holds a black belt in several of the martial arts and as an Elf she's stronger than a human." Bruce took a hold of Johnny's hand and helped him navigate around the furniture.

Bruce led Johnny into the bedroom. To his surprise, it looked more like an armory than a place where you'd sleep. Weapons hung on all the dark cherry paneled walls: daggers, swords, maces, pikes. Not a single gun could be seen, everything was medieval. More weapons were laid out on the bed along with a harness and specially made sheaths for wrists and ankle. Johnny limped and lurched over to the bed with Bruce's help and then was slowly lowered down. He rolled up his pants leg, strapped on the ankle sheath into which he slid a dagger. Sheaths were strapped to his wrists beneath his sleeves, daggers slid into them. He pulled on the harness, slipping it over his head. Johnny sheathed swords on his back, four knives on the front, scimitars at his hips, and a wicked assortment of daggers and knives on the belt between the twin blades. Bruce helped him to his feet. Johnny flicked his wrists and daggers appeared in his hands. He dropped into a defensive posture then proceeded to flow through a series of martial arts moves. The final move brought the dagger within a hair's breadth of Bruce's face. He straightened up and put away the daggers.

"Whoa, man! Could you teach me to fight like that?"

"Yes and we start tomorrow." Bruce took a hold of his hand and started to walk him towards the bathroom. Johnny stopped him before they could walk out the door.

"There's something else I wanted to tell you. I'm a Titan," he said, closing his eyes. A shining white light swirled around him. Bruce gasped as his friend suddenly started to shoot up to an impossible height. Unfortunately, his clothes didn't get bigger, so they became increasingly tighter. Muscles bulged and fabric ripped. When the light faded away, he found himself looking at a man so tall that his head touched the ceiling. Before Johnny put his head through his roof, which wouldn't have made Reverend Purdy too happy, he shrank himself down to his previous height. He was no longer gaunt and gone was the hair that so badly needed a haircut. His head was completely shaven except for a white ponytail that rose high from his crown. The design etched into his face now swirled and spiraled its way down his head to the nape of his neck. His clothes hung in tatters. Johnny tore off what was left of his shirt. Bruce stared open mouthed at his friend. Woad designs were etched into every inch of bare amethyst flesh. Ruby-eyed snakes like the ones in his ears pierced his nipples. Tree trunk thick arms corded with muscle could easily crush a man to death like two enormous boa constrictors. His pants were torn in half a dozen places, revealing equally muscular legs. Johnny savagely tore off his pants, leaving him wearing nothing but his boxers.

"Purdy bought that outfit for you. You know that, don't you? He's not going to be too happy to know that you destroyed it."

"It doesn't matter. I've got a wardrobe full of clothes." With a gesture of his hand, the wardrobe doors flew open. Bruce saw that Johnny wasn't lying. The clothes ranged from casual to an ultra-formal tuxedo. He pointed to a shirt and a pair of pants, which flew out of the wardrobe onto the bed. Bruce watched as Johnny reached up and pulled the leather band from his hair. Silky white hair tumbled down to his waist in a snowy cascade. Immensely long fingers worked his luxuriant locks into a thick braid. He slid the leather band onto the end of the braid to keep it from coming undone. Johnny summoned the shirt to his outstretched hand then pulled it on over his head. As he slipped it his arms into the sleeves the daggers sheathed at his wrists disappeared. Drawing the shirt down, the knives and swords vanished as well. Pulling on the pants, the dagger in its ankle sheath also disappeared.


End file.
